Valet for a Tradesman
by goat perdition
Summary: Mr. Thornton is a hardworking tradesman that thinks of little else but his business and is helped enormously by his valet, Wallace. Story begins before Margaret. Somewhat humorous look at a slightly more carefree John.


Wallace turned the corner to find that he had arrived too late to take the young master's coat and hat. After closing the door that had been left partially open, he went about finding the discarded items that he knew John had taken with him when he went out that morning. He lifted the frock coat and hat carefully from where they had been discarded on the table next to the door, retrieved the kid gloves from the inside of the rumpled top hat, disentangled the scarf from within the folds of the coat, smoothed the nap of the hat as best he could and placed the hat and gloves in a small closet where they belonged before putting the coat over his arm and made his way toward the stairs. He sighed to see more articles littering the formerly immaculate entryway. He hastily kicked a lone boot so that it thumped down a couple stairs and came to rest by its upturned fellow at the bottom of the staircase. Stooping, he collected a cravat, vest, braces and to his very great dismay, the perfectly tailored trousers that he had brought back from the clothier not two days before.

'Oh, for goodness sake, sir. What can you be thinking, leaving all your personal articles scattered about the house? The Moores are to arrive in a half an hour.'

'I am sorry for that, Wallace. I am in a terrible hurry. You see, I am expecting guests this evening and I am quite, quite late.' With these last words, he popped his head out into the hallway where Wallace was collecting his shirt off the ground. 'I trust that everything is in order?' He did not wait for a response, but ducked back inside the door.

'Your clothes have been pressed and laid out, but you were to have returned hours ago and I fear your bath will be quite cold.'

'Cool water keeps a man free from sicknesses, Wallace. I cant imagine how I should get on without you.' By this time, he had cast off his drawers and was climbing into the brass basin. 'Hellfire, this water is freezing! Damn it all, Wallace. Gads!' As he shouted, he made to stand up, but slipped, crashing back into the chilly water and splashing a good deal of it onto Wallace and the surrounding room. 'I- am-,' he fumbled with the words to express his sincerest apologies, his brows knit together over his great, soft brown eyes. All the while water dripped down his dark hair, into his face. He looked almost child-like and Wallace could not help thinking of him when he was a boy, using the same expression to get himself out of whatever mischief he had been up to. The valet chuckled to himself thinking of John's strong limbs giving out under him and the comical expression that crossed his normally serene face as he slipped.

'I am certain that the lovely Miss Moore will not consider you a very good match if you continue to look so pitiful, Sir.'

'What do I care what Miss Moore thinks of me? Or any of the other gentlemen's daughters that will bind themselves forever to a man who made his fortune in trade?'

'Thats quite snobbish of you, sir. What is wrong with a man that makes a fortune from hard work and honest reputation?'

'The son of a ruined tradesman may put on fine clothes, but he will never be a gentleman. What business does he have among ladies and peers that are not his own?'

'Your father left you with naught but debts, which left you and your mother and sister destitute. But you took on work, paid off all your father's debts, started a business and are making an empire of it with the quickness of your mind and the integrity of your dealings. It would be a very silly woman indeed that would not desire such qualities in a man.'

'It is unfortunate, I suppose, that there are so many silly women to be found in this world. Particularly in Milton.'

He climbed out of the tub, dripping and covered in goosebumps. Wallace handed him a towel and went out of the room to help John dress for the evening. As he stood before the mirror he looked every bit the gentleman. Perhaps more solidly built than many other Milton masters, but there was nothing that could be done about that; he was active in both mind and body. He could never be content with idleness. When Wallace came from his closet with a green brocade vest, John narrowed his eyes at his man through the mirror. Wallace sighed, returning to the closet and presenting him with a simple black vest some moments later. He helped John tie on a white cravat, which was nearly the only difference between his normal appearance and his dressing for company.

Mrs. Thornton's lips curled in a barely perceptible smile when she laid eyes on her son. He looked almost as he did everyday, but her keen eyes could find the absence of the worn but well treated boots he often wore, the lower cut of his black vest, even the starch that made everything more fine and fastidious. Her pride rose up in her as such could scarcely be contained.

Miss Moore was a delightful creature to behold, she was positively radiant in her ivory damask gown. She blushed prettily when John asked her to dance. As Mrs. Thornton looked on, John led her up and down the set. She was as graceful as any of the ladies there and complimented his dark serenity with her pale grace. Mrs. Thornton imagined that John could be as happy with her as with any lady and hoped that he would consider her in that way. She spoke for a few moments with Mrs. Moore. It seemed that the latter was quite proud of herself for marrying the second son of a baron and cared to talk of little else but titles and gossip. Mrs. Thornton excused herself to welcome Mr. Slickson, who had mercifully just arrived. When she was at leisure to once again see how her son got on with Miss Moore, she was most displeased to find him entirely altered as he moved mechanically up the dance. She wondered what could possibly have gone wrong. When the dance ended, he bowed to his apologetic partner and left her quickly. Mrs. Thornton could only wonder about it as she played her roll of hostess and conversed with everyone in the room.

John, pale with anger, had made his way outside into the mill courtyard where he knew he would encounter no guests. He paced back and forth, still reeling from the haughty Miss Moore who had condescended to informing him that he was quite a skilled dancer for being a man who cared for naught but his trade. He was struck by the unthinking way that she had said it, and then blushing as if it were something she had been told not to say. She has no way of knowing what his business dealings were, nor how he occupied his time, so he had to take her for a vicious gossip, which dropped her in his regard considerably. He had been merely surprised at first, but as he thought on it, he could not deny the truth of it. And he had only to feel shame at it. It was as he had said to Wallace, even though he was in a gentleman's clothes, he was no gentleman. Even she found out his falsehood, his unjust peerage with the finest of Milton. What was he playing at, hosting a great dinner at his home just across from the very mill that had raised him from poor laborer himself? These men esteemed him because they did not know his history. He was, to them, a master that was perhaps a bit more humble than the rest, but who had come from money nonetheless.

Wallace had watched Mr. Thornton make his exit and could only assume that Miss Moore had said something discordant with poor John's emotions. It was just as well, she seemed rather frail as she was dancing and Wallace deemed her sickly and a poor match for so strong-willed a man as his master was. He went down to the courtyard himself, handing John a snifter of brandy.

'I don't imagine Miss Moore has realized even now, what she has said that upset you. You were entirely right about foolish Milton women.'

'I should not have been offended by her remark. It was entirely true. I suppose that I do dance better than I should for spending all my time at the mill and being a tradesman. I had better go and make my apology.' He drained the glass, closed his eyes for a few moments to settle his thoughts and returned to the party.

Mr. Thornton danced no more that evening. He occupied himself primarily with speaking to his fellow masters who had been invited. When all the guests had gone home, Mrs. Thornton took a chair in her sitting room and waited. John went through the house, locking doors and closing windows until he came upon her. He laid a hand on her shoulder. She caught his hand beneath hers and turned her face to him. He smiled in spite of himself.

'It is nothing, mother. Just feeling sorry for myself at being less than a gentleman in the eyes of so many.'

'You are a thousand times better than any gentleman I've yet seen.'


End file.
